<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Take the Past (You Came Last) by ken_ichijouji (dommific)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26345233">Take the Past (You Came Last)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji'>ken_ichijouji (dommific)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Victor Nikiforov/Katsuki Yuuri - Freeform, M/M, rivals au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:00:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26345233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chulanont is absolutely pointing at him when he says the word garbage and Chris barely manages not to deck him in his delicate, perfectly-contoured jaw. His eyeliner wings are the sharpest they’ve ever been, drawn perfectly in metallic rose gold instead of their usual black.</p><p>Chris hates him so much it’s like there are flames on the side of his face. Chris gets hot under the collar as his gaze narrows onto Chulanont’s lips as he licks their left corner. His pearlescent lip stain that matches his eyeliner accentuates the hateful smirk on his full mouth.</p><p>Chris is vastly taller than Chulanont, but Chulanont looms large before him regardless. Smiling without an iota of mirth, Chris decides to throw a little shade. “Chulanont. Still can’t land but the one quad, I assume.”</p><p>Something passes through Chulanont’s eyes briefly. “Giacometti. Still need to bribe officials to win, I assume.”</p><p>He speaks loudly enough the rest of the room goes silent. </p><p> </p><p>  <em>An AU version of events where Chris and Phichit become bitter rivals, written for Breathless: a Phichimetti zine.</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Breathless - A Phichimetti Zine</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Take the Past (You Came Last)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <br/></p>
</div>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>War was declared at 4:32 PM local time during the Men’s Free Skate of the 2016 World Figure Skating Championships in Boston, Massachusetts. It was explosive. It was ugly. It was brief. </p><p>Before the shots were fired and the lines were drawn, the generals of their respective factions met as...not friends, but the potential existed in that moment. The Swiss competitor favored to bring home at least bronze watched all of the groups before his warm up, perform, get their scores, kiss and or cry. </p><p><em><strong>Christophe Giacometti. Some of the finest quads and PCS in the land. Highly decorated. Loves cats. The Hero of This Story.</strong></em> </p><p>The next to last group is about to go, and the biggest surprise this weekend is the competitor from Bangkok. It’s his first season in Seniors, and both he and his Japanese rinkmate have taken the skating world by storm. In Chris’s eyes, the Thai skater Chulanont is the one to watch as he doesn’t have a clean quad on his roster yet. </p><p>He’s also as easy on the eyes as he is magnetic while he dances. Chris is only 23, but there’s talk sometimes of which of the young turks is his successor. As he watches Chulanont warm up in shimmering sky blue and blinding white, Chris begins to think <em>maybe</em>.</p><p>The music begins, a piece that every figure skater can sing in their sleep from a musical about a time-traveler meeting the King of Siam, and Chulanont just utterly kills it. He knows the game and he’s playing it to win this weekend.</p><p>Chris is delighted.</p><p>Hamster plushies rain down upon the ice, and Chulanont grabs a few, waving at the crowd as he exits the ice. He’s cute up close, with a smile that can power Zurich for ten years.</p><p>“Nicely done,” Chris offers him with a sincere smile. </p><p>Chulanont’s eyes are the only part of him that gives away the fact that he’s a bit startled as well as star struck. “Christophe Giacometti,” he says. “I’ve always been a big—”</p><p>“Phichit,” Chulanont’s coach, Celestino Cialdini calls. </p><p>Chulanont gives Chris a sheepish smile. “Good luck!” </p><p>The score for Chulanont’s FS is announced, and it’s frankly insultingly low. He skated clean; beyond skating clean, he was <em>flawless</em>. Why would the judges do that?</p><p>Chris’s group is called to warm up, and he gets ready. He’s third to last overall, but as he gets into place for <em>Rapsodie Espagnole</em>, he can’t shake what he saw with Chulanont’s numbers. Chris doesn’t even realizes he pops his first jump until he’s in his step sequence. He’s sloppy as hell, and in a move that hasn’t happened to him since he was 18, he lands on his knees when he does a triple Axel. </p><p>There’s a loud gasp of shock from the crowd to punctuate it, just a pinch of salt on the wound. </p><p>Chris finishes, and Josef says words in German that feel mostly like pity as they sit together in the Kiss and Cry. His score’s announced; he’s just at triple digits. The crowd makes another noise, this one less shocked and more dismayed. Chris thinks for a minute he needs an eye exam, that maybe his script needs fine-tuning. </p><p>At the end of the day, Chris ends up with a bronze medal that feels confusingly cheap, Chulanont is kept off the podium entirely, Victor Nikiforov has won gold again, and when Chris exits the medal ceremony, he walks into the locker room to be greeted by Chulanont’s coach’s back. </p><p>“—there’s no proof, so we can’t actually file for any sort of formal complaint,” Cialdini says. “But it’s highly suspect, I think, that both you and Yuuri were edged out by Giacometti. The math doesn’t add up.”</p><p>“Ciao Ciao, I don’t—” Chulanont stops, making eye contact with Chris. </p><p>The Italian competitor, Michele Crispino, apparently doesn’t count on Chris knowing any of his mother tongue because he says in a loud whisper, “Who can stand a chance with this inflated scoring for the fave nonsense.”</p><p>Cialdini is American, but he must have relatives who speak it because what makes Chris start seeing the same red as Chulanont’s Short Program costume is when he says, “Yeah, Swissflation. <em>Typical.</em>”</p><p>The room is insanely tense, like the air just before a bar brawl breaks out. Chris looks at Chulanont. He gives him a cold, humorless smile. “Word of advice: accusations of cheating are serious and not to be thrown around lightly. It’s beneath the sport, and you should have some self-respect.”</p><p>Chulanont’s face turns stony. “Accusations? I never—”</p><p>Chris doesn’t hear, storming out of the locker room and letting the door slam behind him as he goes.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Phichit Chulanont. First ever Thai athlete to medal at Four Continents, qualify for Worlds, and will likely be the same for the next Olympics. Loves hamsters and Broadway camp. Professional backstabber.</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>That moment almost two years ago haunts everyone present here today in Vancouver for the Grand Prix Final.</p><p>“They’ll let anyone in these days, won’t they.” Using French instead of English so only his friend and unwilling amateur therapist can grasp the depths of his vitriol, Chris’s voice is laced with sulphuric acid. </p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Christophe Giacometti. Some of the finest quads and PCS in the land. Highly decorated. Loves cats. Loathes figure skaters from Bangkok who think they own the place.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Aforementioned friend raises one perfectly-microbladed dark blond eyebrow as he adjusts the zipper of his Russian Skating Fed jacket. While he sips on some electrolyte-enhanced water, Victor Nikiforov says in a flat voice, “He placed bronze and gold at his qualifiers. Chulanont earned his spot just like you and I.”</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Victor Nikiforov. The Living Legend. Face of Burberry, Under Armour, John Wilson Blades, and Russian Standard Vodka. Adores Makkachin, his poodle. 37% done with Chris’s shit.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Chris chooses not to hear him. His eyes will not move from the back of a black team jacket that says THAILAND in yellow block writing. Chris’s loathing is palpable, as is his righteous (to him) indignation. </p><p>Victor gives him a look halfway between confusion and exhaustion. Chulanont’s Japanese rinkmate also qualified with silver and gold at his qualifiers, and at the sight of him Victor freezes, almost choking on his water as his eyes light up with the universal recognition of a total <em>snack.</em>“Who is <em>that</em>?”</p><p>“Who is— oh. Katsuki?” Chris tries to make Chulanont’s brain explode with the powers of his mind. It doesn’t work, but he continues regardless as he adds pinching of his thumb and forefinger to crush his head. “That’s Katsuki Yuuri. He’s from Japan, and we overlapped in juniors for a season.” Katsuki wears the white JSF warm up over a violet and blue costume. His shoulder-length hair’s braided back off his face, and his usual glasses are probably in his gym bag somewhere. Victor looks as though he’s hearing a symphony in his mind, like how Diana Ross always sings about. Chris rolls his eyes. “He’s also <em>his</em> best friend and roommate. So therefore—”</p><p>“Your grudge is yours,” Victor manages. “Me, I suddenly feel the need for an introduction and possibly a drink in the hotel lounge after the ceremony.” He pats Chris on the cheek before booking it to Katsuki. </p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Katsuki Yuuri. Japan’s Ace. Best ass in figure skating across all genders. Resting bitch face due to myopia. Literally sleeping with the enemy since they’re roommates, but not, like, sexually. We think.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Chris glowers as Victor lightly touches Katsuki’s elbow, and Katsuki looks at him a little starstruck and blushy. Chulanont has vanished, though. Chris can only hope a plague of locusts is eating the skin off his bones.</p><p>His wish is not granted, because he hears that utter fuckery that he hates more than anything. More than how the ISU treated Surya Bonaly. More than mixing plaids and stripes. </p><p><em>You may be good at lutzes!<br/>
You may be good at spins!<br/>
But when it comes to PCS—</em><br/>
<em>Thailand’s Future always wins!<br/>
Goooooooo Phichit!</em></p><p>A dozen people clap and stomp in uniforms made from the same red and blue that is used in the Thai flag. While Victor shamelessly chats Katsuki up, Katsuki seems to be unconsciously doing the clapping and stomping in perfect sync with the cheerleaders with a flirty smile aimed at Victor.</p><p>Chris’s hatred has now grown 10% in its intensity. It burns brighter than the midsummer sun and hotter than the eighth level of hell. Someone clears their throat. Not just any someone. The fly in his soup, the pebble in his shoe, the giant hairball his cat coughs up on his clean duvet. Chris turns and <em>there he is</em>.</p><p>“To quote a great philosopher,” Chulanont begins. “Fives have lives, and ones don’t get rhymes because they’re <em>garbage.</em>”</p><p><em><strong>Phichit Chulanont. First ever Thai athlete to medal at Four Continents, Worlds, and to qualify for the Olympics in men’s figure skating. Loves hamsters and Broadway camp. Literal Satan in a 5’6” package.</strong></em> </p><p>Chulanont is absolutely pointing at him when he says the word <em>garbage</em> and Chris barely manages not to deck him in his delicate, perfectly-contoured jaw. His eyeliner wings are the sharpest they’ve ever been, drawn perfectly in metallic rose gold instead of their usual black.</p><p>Chris hates him so much it’s like there are flames on the side of his face. Chris gets hot under the collar as his gaze narrows onto Chulanont’s lips as he licks their left corner. His pearlescent lip stain that matches his eyeliner accentuates the hateful smirk on his full mouth.</p><p>Chris is vastly taller than Chulanont, but Chulanont looms large before him regardless. Smiling without an iota of mirth, Chris decides to throw a little shade. “Chulanont. Still can’t land but the one quad, I assume.”</p><p>Something passes through Chulanont’s eyes briefly. “Giacometti. Still need to bribe officials to win, I assume.”</p><p>He speaks loudly enough the rest of the room goes silent. The two other finalists — Jean-Jacques Leroy and Otabek Altin — try to pretend they aren’t listening and fail miserably at it. Katsuki gives Chulanont a look like <em>buddy why.</em> Victor openly winces.</p><p>Ever since that fateful day there have been many theories, conspiracy boards, memes, and weirdly sex-charged fanfiction Chris promises he does not read about the two of them as competitors. Further accusations of the ISU Swissflating Chris, speculation about how Chulanont was too green and the ISU wanted to humble him, the idea that some kind of prior spat between Celestino Cialdini, Chulanont’s coach, and the ISU officials dating back to his ice dance days came into play decades later… Chulanont beat Chris soundly at the following GPF qualifying round they shared. Chris took his dignity back the next time. It’s an escalating masochism tango of athleticism, and it entertains the masses to a degree that hasn’t been observed since the actual assault and battery Nancy Kerrigan was on the wrong end of. </p><p>Their fanbases are loud and passionate. The fanbases for literally every other skater look at them thinking <em>at least we’re saner than those guys</em>. The ISU is very tired even though they caused this entire mess.</p><p>The rest of their impending mayhem will have to wait, as it’s time for their warm up and Short Programs. They head out, flirting with the crowds as they pass, and in the line up Chulanont is fourth and Chris third. </p><p>Chris grudgingly stands rinkside with a sour look as Chulanont hands his coach his windbreaker. His costume is white, rose gold, and maroon on top with black pants on his lower half that are on the tight side for him. It explains the different make up though. As he removes his blade guards, he looks at Chris for a hair too long, then he skates out after all the stuffed bears are picked up. </p><p><em>Representing Thailand, Phichit Chulanont. Chulanont will be skating to “The Worst” by Jhené Aiko.</em> </p><p>A slow beat with a woman’s voice taunting the object of her affections begins, and Chulanont skates his program with a surprising amount of passion in it. Or rage, since spite is the best motivator known to man. </p><p>
  <em>Please don’t take this personal, but you ain’t shit,<br/>
And you weren’t special ’til I made you so.<br/>
You better act like you know that I been through worse than you…<br/>
I think your pride is just in the way —<br/>
Funny how everything changed once you got all that you wanted.<br/>
Nothing was ever the same.</em>
</p><p>“Subtle,” Chris deadpans with pursed lips. </p><p>Victor and Katsuki are second-to-last and last, respectively, and Victor gives Chris a dubious look while Katsuki favors him with something more sympathetic. </p><p>The program is more mature and less joyous than his other ones. It’s bitter and dark like a chocolate-covered espresso bean, and Chris isn’t even mad at the fact he can’t take his eyes off him. He does a perfect, gorgeous cantilever at one point and the way he sways his hips to the lyrics is spellbinding, to say the least. Especially since his pants are Adam Rippon level tight. </p><p>It’s almost the skating equivalent of being dumped before college and coming home super hot to get back at an ex-boyfriend.</p><p>Chris fixates on whether Chulanont’s lip stain is tacky or smooth when licked, and he mentally slaps himself. He immediately calms down. Chulanont is attractive. It’s not a crime to think this. Most figure skaters are comely. Victor’s good looking, he can admit Victor’s good looking, which is just a simple, factual statement.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Katsuki!</em> Katsuki is also attractive, and there’s nothing wrong with saying so. This is just objectivity about his competition, that Chulanont has an ass that won’t quit and a smile that lights the world when it’s genuine and not edged with the malice he shows Chris. He has these warm gray eyes also, and —</p><p>Chris needs a drink. Chris has to get on the ice and skate to Prince, but Chris <em>really </em>needs a drink.</p><p>Chulanont finishes, giving a smile and a bow to the crowd, working them effortlessly. He joins Cialdini in the Kiss and Cry; his coach praises him as the scores are tallied. When they’re read over the speakers, Chulanont does extremely well. If he can keep up his momentum, he’ll probably place.</p><p>Chris frowns, remembering those accusations as always. He grinds his teeth a few times as he hands Josef his red and white jacket. It was Josef’s idea he go meta with his programs this season, as that scandal still clings to him like cigarette smoke.</p><p>As Chris hands Josef his jacket and his skate guards, he decides that two can play the spite skate game.</p><p>
  <em>And we lay down on the sand of the sea,<br/>
And before us animosity will stand and decree,<br/>
That we speak not of love only blasphemy.<br/>
And in the distance, six others will curse me,<br/>
But that’s alright (that’s alright)...<br/>
For I will watch them fall (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.)</em>
</p><p>Chris learned his lesson in Boston and lets go of everything but his program as he performs. He has that moment of clarity, just as the final bars of the music begin, that he’s nailed it. It’s perfect, and if he doesn’t medal this weekend, there is no fairness in the world. Maybe this will finally settle the mess with Chulanont for good. Victor and Katsuki skate, but there’s a ringing in Chris’s ears when they announce the standings for the Free Skate the following day. Josef says something congratulatory, he guesses, but he can’t hear anything as his eyes meet Chulanont’s across the green room, the music he performed to echoing in Chris’s ears. </p><p><em>You said that you would come again… you said that we would remain friends but—</em> </p>
<hr/><p>Later that night, Chris can’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he can’t make it happen. He tries his cooling sleep mask, he tries a white noise app on his phone, he tries boring rom-coms on the hotel cable, he tries herbal tea and...nothing.</p><p>He has a clear problem; he can’t stop thinking about Chulanont. It’s like picking at a scab, a stinging, painful fixation that will fester and rot if he’s not careful. The short program rushes back, Chulanont in those sewn-on pants with the rose gold makeup glimmering in the spotlights as he skates around Chris in a pattern that forms a cage. The music is different here — darker, moodier… sexier.</p><p>Cialdini is there, for whatever reason Chris doesn’t know, and he’s dressed like a demented Goth ringmaster calling out jumps and spins like they’re running drills. Chulanont clips Chris as he passes; at one point he meets Chris’s eyes and smiles like a great white would to a wounded baby seal crying for its mom. <em>“I’ll be your animal,”</em> Chulanont croons along with the music. He narrowly misses Chris’s cheek with his blades doing a Death Drop. Chris ends up on his knees out of defense, covering his head so he doesn’t lose the tip of an ear or something, and then Chulanont slides across the ice on his knees. <em>“I’m the bad guy, </em><em><strong>duh</strong></em><em>,”</em> Chulanont says right before he crushes Chris’s mouth with his own and— </p><p>A few things happen at once.</p><p>Firstly, the alarm goes off and Chris hurtles awake.</p><p>Secondly, Chris realizes he didn’t even notice that he fell asleep at some point.</p><p>Finally, Chris had a wet dream like a thirteen year old. His underwear sticks to his groin as his come grows tacky and cool. It’s revolting and confusing; he hates it, thanks.</p><p>The competing skaters all have rooms on the club level, so they’re able to access the free breakfast buffet, and Chris doesn’t bother with his contact lenses or getting properly dressed before he helps himself to piping hot coffee and a plate full of a balanced carb-and-protein load. </p><p>Victor has the same idea apparently, as he sits in front of Chris at his two-person table. “Yuuri and I are going on a date,” he chirps as he gleefully slices into a frittata. “Neither of us leave until two days after the banquet, so we’re going sightseeing together!”</p><p>Chris raises an eyebrow. “Good for you.”</p><p>Victor notices that his tone is neither congratulatory nor kind. “What’s wrong with you? You’re fourth right now, not last.”</p><p>“I had a dream about Chulanont,” Chris complains. “One of <em>those</em> dreams.”</p><p>Chris expects a spit-take or any sort of shocked reaction, but what Victor does instead is take a bite of his breakfast, chews it thoroughly, swallows, and says, “Yeah, well, you’ve been sublimating that pretty badly for the last two years. You were bound to catch on eventually.” </p><p>The stare Chris gives could be felt for miles. His glasses slide down his nose, completing a disbelieving grandfatherly aesthetic that was mostly begun by his lounge pants and battered cardigan. Victor finishes eating. He then puts one of those single-serving jam packets into a mug of Lipton black tea. “Instead of considering paying a hitman to make it look like an accident, maybe you should clear the air and shag it out of your system.”</p><p>Once again, Chris stares at Victor as he gets up to put his dishes in the bins. Victor waves goodbye with a grin, and Chris thinks too hard again about Chulanont and the anger he’s held on to for years. Has it been more than anger? The thought carries him through practice, changing into his costume, their warm up period, and through the other competitors.</p><p>He doesn’t notice how Leroy or Altin do, but Chulanont went into the third slot because predictably Victor crushed his short with Katsuki just barely ahead of him. Chris’s Free is up next and is set to Prince’s “Controversy.” He wears electric purple and lace, doing what he does best as he wipes the floor with Leroy and Altin. It is, frankly, a career best skate, and the world knows it.</p><p>Chulanont’s next, though. He skates to the center ice in yellow gold, platinum, and blush pink with the rose gold make up again. Like he’s in some cliche climax of a movie, the sound fades and Chris’s eyes focus only on Chulanont in the middle of the rink as the lights change. The music is all he hears, and—</p><p>Oh.</p><p>
  <em>I got mixed emotions; did I finally find me a river that could lead me out to the ocean?<br/>
‘Cause I’ve only ever known the kind of love, that leaves you bodied and broken.<br/>
So forgive me for my mixed emotions, yeah yeah.<br/>
I’m not that kind of person who can fall in and out of love with you, that’s not what love’s supposed to do.<br/>
Baby, don’t go breaking my heart, breaking my heart, ‘cause it’s the only one I’ve got.</em>
</p><p>Chulanont’s performance yesterday was bitter and a call-out, but today’s is a raw, frustrated piece that leaves a trail of blood on his frozen dancefloor. If Victor and Katsuki still end up at the top slots on the podium, Chris will be utterly shocked after this.</p><p>When Chulanont finishes the piece, his cheer squad aren’t the only ones shouting. The hug Katsuki gives him says there’s no hard feelings if he’s outdone tonight. Chulanont hugs Katsuki back, but his eyes are locked on Chris. Victor is next, but Chris doesn’t stay to watch. There’s zero chance Victor won’t get a medal at least, and they had a qualifier together so Chris has already seen the program anyhow.</p><p>Chris puts on his Swiss Fed jacket, grabs a yellow Red Bull, and just as he pulls the tab, he hears, “You know that was created in Chakkapong, right?”</p><p>It takes Chris a minute to place the voice because he hasn’t heard it without the universal tone of <em>eat shit and die</em> aimed his way in… just shy of never, he thinks. “Yeah?” he asks as he drinks half of it in one go.</p><p>Chulanont grabs one of the coconut ones. “Yeah. Some Austrian guy tried the original formula and partnered with the Thai entrepreneur that came up with it. Chaleo Yoovidhya’s heirs are still the majority shareholders, and it’s easily the most widely bought energy drink in the entire world.”</p><p>“Global dominion through caffeine,” Chris remarks. “I guess it beats war.”</p><p>“I guess it does,” Chulanont agrees. He sips his slower than Chris, who’s already finished and grabbing a lime one for his second helping. Chris thinks his ongoing assessment of Chulanont as actual Satan is apt as just when he takes a drink Chulanont blurts, “Why do you hate me so much?”</p><p>Upon ensuring he won’t drown in artificial flavoring and carbonation, Chris gives Chulanont a pointed look. “You accused me of cheating. I don’t think there’s many skaters who wouldn’t hold a grudge about that.”</p><p>“No, <em>other people did</em>,” Chulanont says. “I didn’t even get a chance to comment before you flipped out.”</p><p>Chris begins to counter when… actually. Chulanont’s right, he never made any of those remarks until after Chris read him for filth in a later interview. The locker room conversation he walked in on that set them down this road...he must have misread Chulanont’s reactions to his coach’s comments. God, no wonder he’s been so quick to strike back...his assumption was just as bad, if not in some ways worse.</p><p>“Do you know what it’s like when the skater you most look up to accuses you of a bunch of actual nonsense?” Chulanont says. “And everyone’s on you about it, ruining something that was initially super great?”</p><p>Chris nods. “I can imagine.”</p><p>Without insults or a cheer squad, the silence between them stretches on. It’s definitely awkward, but Chris is not really sure how to break the ice. The words “I’m sorry,” tumble out, but he winces because it’s been years. Two words can’t unfuck this.</p><p>Chulanont finishes the drink. “I egged it on and antagonized you. I sometimes egg the fans on too, which Yuuri has told me to stop more than once.”</p><p>“Victor’s said similar things,” Chris admits.</p><p>Chulanont… <em>Phichit</em> gives him a shaky smile. “Guess we deserve each other.” His tone is somewhere between deprecating and playful, but there’s a vision of an olive branch in his eyes. He looks more like the beaming newly-advanced eighteen year old and less like someone carrying a burden others forced on him. He’s much lovelier this way, Chris decides. Phichit laughs a little awkwardly. Chris belatedly realizes he has a shy smile on his lips, and Phichit gets one of his own. “You’re a lot better looking when you’re not mean-mugging all the time.”</p><p>It’s an attempt not just to the break the ice, but at flirting. “Anger doesn’t suit your features at all. You’re much more attractive this way.”</p><p>Phichit’s expression lightens even more, and he pulls Chris into a hug. Since Chris has over half a foot on him, this is no easy feat, but it’s not important since Phichit smells like a combination of basil and violet. Chris thinks kissing him is maybe an accident at first, but that doesn’t really matter either. What matters is Phichit’s lipstick doesn’t smear, that he tastes like coconut Red Bull, and this kiss feels right in a way that causes Chris some deep regret about the last two years.</p><p>“Told him,” Victor says somewhere off to the side. Chris only opens his eyes to make sure Victor can see him rolling them.</p><p>“I told Phichit, too.” Oh, <em>that</em> must be Katsuki, and then the soft unison group <em>ahhhhhh</em> has to be the cheerleaders.</p><p>Jesus Christ.</p><p>Phichit smiles with a snort, and Chris gives the room a baleful glare. “Can you people—”</p><p>“Fine,” Victor says with a satisfied grin. He and Katsuki exit with their hands entwined. The cheer squad follows after, and then they’re alone again as Chris kisses Phichit for the second time. There’s been too much bitterness between them for the last few years for Victor’s advice from breakfast to be practical or healthy, but maybe the sightseeing he’s going to take Yuuri on could change to a double-date instead.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Christophe Giacometti and Phichit Chulanont. Elite men’s figure skaters. Love their pets. Formerly bitter rivals, they lived Happily Ever After.</strong>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not only the AU where Chris and Phichit are rivals, but an AU where Victor and Yuuri have their shit together. Clearly this can only be fake news. </p><p>I HAD SO MUCH FUN BEING IN THIS BOOK my goodness. Please check out all of the other works and give this saucy, Selfie-taking rare pair some love and attention. Thank you to Robbie and Nuri for the betas, as well!</p><p>The program songs are <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2wBCrtJS3E3TimRZ5MElTI?si=YSsoAb-tR8OvSuNq3fMtwQ">The Worst by Jhené Aiko</a>, <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/04MjaNej8XUHI8jbz2THez?si=WDJsdhuyQxG7hYoQuCmfRA">7 by Prince</a>, and <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/79Mjfhh393dZdAsTvUFDR6?si=10H-AIVlQcaJZe3LM3cmxg">Don't Go Breaking My Heart by the Backstreet Boys</a>. The one in Chris's dream is <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2Fxmhks0bxGSBdJ92vM42m?si=vqJV6rrfRJ6wRl_ZJXnbCA">Bad Guy by Billie Eilish</a>. </p><p>Thank you for supporting the project and I hope you enjoy all of the works!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>